Hayabusa's Notebook
by Hayabusa1138
Summary: A collection of one shot stories. Memories and Thoughts of the Future: Aboard the Millennium Falcon, Obi-Wan Kenobi meditates about the past and converses with an old friend about the future to come.
1. Dignity - ANH Infinities

**Dignity**

The auburn-haired woman sat silently in her small grey cell, eyes staring straight towards the magnetically sealed door. Her exhausted breaths came as evenly as she could bear to make them, hitching every now and then as a slight spasm of pain rushed over her.

The torture hadn't always been physical. That had been reserved for each and every rebel that had been captured by the Empire while she had been forced to watch. Every question that was asked of her aides, captured pilots, even semi-civilians that had been manning bars and mess halls on their captured ships were directed towards her as well. It could end with a single answer, the dual interrogators had asked. Anyone that had any real knowledge had died before breaking, true to their training and their cause.

She had led the Rebellion as part of an ever-shrinking triumvirate for two years. Differences of opinion between herself and Garm Bel Iblis had led to his departure and the very battle station that had captured her had claimed the life of Bail Organa.

Somewhere it had all gone wrong, the last minute defensive strike against the Death Star had failed and their base on Yavin destroyed with the survivors of the first low-powered shot being captured shortly thereafter.

The door hissed open, a harsh rush of air entered the prison cell and blew the folds of her stained white robes lightly. The dark and demonic figure that stood in front of her had once frightened her as it did almost every other sane being in the galaxy. Now his raspy artificial breath and tusked helmet sent no feeling over her save for relief. It would all be over soon.

"Mon Mothma," Darth Vader said. His voice was a metallic bass that reverberated throughout the small room. "It's time."

She stood from her cot and straightened her robes as best she could. Mon Mothma closed her eyes and took as deep a breath as she dared with her bruised ribs. "Lead the way, Lord Vader."

The walk from the Imperial Palace's to the nearby Monument Plaza was long and she feared that her legs would give out from under her, sending her frail form sprawling onto the ground. The Imperials that watched her from the lens of the holocam droid that hovered in front of them would have loved that sight, she thought, the leader of the fallen and scattered Rebellion utterly humiliated. One last thing before her death that would make their cause the laughingstock of the galaxy and add to the futility of it all. She would not give them that pleasure.

Monument Plaza loomed large on the surface of Coruscant, the statues of the heroes of the Republic long ago replaced by effigies of Palpatine and other Imperial heroes. A holoimage of Grand Moff Tarkin was the latest addition to the crop, awaiting the sculpting of a physical testament to his recent victory. Mon Mothma watched as a flock of columbiform birds scattered away from the ground, one of them leaving a pile of droppings on the emitter.

The crowd was staunchly Imperial, immaculate in their finest dress uniforms while the general public's view of the proceedings would be broadcast live throughout the galaxy via the HoloNet on every single channel.

Palpatine stood proudly on a center dais, his grey and wrinkled skin peering out of his voluminous black robes. His sickly yellow eyes beamed down upon her and a cackle escaped his lips. Standing next to the Emperor, looking resolute in a grey jumpsuit, was Bail's daughter Leia. She looked down at Mon Mothma, a hint of pity in her eyes.

"Citizens of the Empire," Palpatine began. "Due to the efforts of Grand Moff Tarkin and Lord Vader, the leader of the terrorists that have brought war to the Empire has now been captured!" The assembled crowd applauded loudly and the faintest of curses and jeers caught Mon Mothma's ears.

Her blue eyes stared into the camera lens of the closest droid, staring into the virtual eyes of every one that was watching. The Rebels that had survived were watching, of that she had every confidence of. They would vanish as best they could, some fighting in small hit and run attacks as they had when the war had first started and some would wait until the time presented itself, if it ever did. Every single being that had raised the crimson phoenix banner of the Alliance Starbird knew that they did so at the risk of their own lives. Every one had been expendable. Even herself.

Darth Vader stepped along side of her, gauntleted hands resting upon his belt as Palpatine's speech continued, close to the onyx metal hilt of his lightsaber. That same blade had killed an untold amount of Jedi and had ended the life of her Senate colleague Fang Zar so many years ago. Those names would be good company to be in, she thought.

"Citizens of the Empire, see now what becomes of those that threaten peace!" Palpatine's closing remarks sent the audience into a wild applause. The loud ovation nearly masked the hissing as Darth Vader's lightsaber ignited. The hum of a hundred bees filled her ear as the audience died down.

"Do you have anything to say?" Darth Vader asked. It was a last minute plea for mercy that he was expecting, she thought, or a blubbering plea for her life that would rob her of any of the sparse dignity that she had left.

"Long live the Republic," she said. There was a flash of red light and then no more.


	2. Dark Forces: Anoat Coda

The _Moldy Crow_ sat upon the rocky surface of the planet Anoat, the bulky avian-shaped freighter's brown hull blending in with the dirt and stone around it. Inside of the small craft, the door to the decontamination shower opened, the smell of raw sewage seeping out into the cabin.

"I don't know how, but it got worse..." Jan Ors crinkled her nose in disgust as Kyle Katarn stepped out. He was clad in civilian gear, dark pants and a tan shirt. In his hands were the clothing that he had been wearing just minutes before. "If you want me to keep flying this ship, you're going to need to replace that thing."

"Not my fault that someone built their base in the middle of a sewer." His partner was standing next to her cot, a large blaster pistol held tightly in her hand and pointing at the occupant of his own. Of course she'd have him sit there instead of her own bunk, he thought.

Imperial Moff Rebus sat back against the bulkhead of the ship, his cocky smile showing teeth the same color of his sweat-stained white undershirt. "My work requires a lot of security."

Kyle gritted his teeth at their prisoner's words. Security in Rebus' case meant a labyrinthine sewer complex filled with cataracts of waste that he had to wade through, guarded by enough dianogas that left him shooting at every bubble in the fetid liquid. It had taken him nearly a hellish hour, but he had finally made it. He could still taste the foul liquid and smell its lingering odor despite the extensive decontamination shower that he had just taken. "It wasn't secure enough."

"No matter." Rebus looked smug despite his position. "I won't be telling you anything."

"We'll leave that to Cracken," Jan said. "Last I heard that some of his crew wasn't happy with your weapons being used to destroy an entire Rebel base."

"I do good work." The Moff's boast sent a wave of anger through Kyle's partner that he could almost feel despite her still calm exterior. They had both seen the ruins of Talay base just days before, carbon scored durasteel buildings still smoldering against the purple night sky, their former occupants laying where the powerful blaster fire had felled them.

"Not anymore," he said. "So, where are we keeping this guy?"

"We can't do the cargo bay, especially with your collection back there."

"The last thing we need is him getting hold of a blaster," Kyle agreed. "Trip back to the _Hope_ will take over a day, so that takes the refresher out."

"That just leaves..." Jan trailed off and both of their eyes went towards the only remaining room in the ship and then back to their prisoner. Rebus' mouth dropped open in shock as devious grins appeared on their faces.

"N-no, you can't mean..."

"Get up!" Jan lifted the stunned Moff up by the crook of the arm and gave him a slight shove towards Kyle.

"Payback's a murglak, isn't it?" The agent led his prisoner over to the door of the decontamination shower and opened it with the press of a switch. The still remaining odor of Anoat's sewer system drifted into the cabin again.

A quick shove sent the Moff was at the other end of the small room. He stood up quickly as hit the metal floor and raced for the open door. It closed quickly with a hiss. With the press of a few buttons, the quarantine mode was activated, locking the room from the outside. The muffled sounds of his fists hitting the metal door was all that the two could hear.

The pair walked through the door and into the large cockpit of the craft. Two consoles sat in front of each other, offset to the side. "So tell me, Kyle," Jan said as she took the rear seat. "How bad was it in there?"

"What's the worst mission you've been on?"

"On Oulanne..." she began.

"Ten times worse."

She laughed, a pleasant sound over the hum of the repulsors and the barely audible thuds coming from the midsection of the ship. "You haven't ended up with an infected leg, an almost 40 degree fever and stuffed into a locker while the rest of my crew went to find help."

Kyle looked back at her. "Really?"

"I wish I was kidding," she said as she pulled her piloting goggles over her eyes.

"You win with that one. So far. How'd that happen, anyway?"

"It's a long story," she said. The frantic pounding behind both of them increased into a crescendo. "One it looks like I'll have the time to be telling. Our water's running a bit low." There was a pause as she checked the navcomputer. "We'll have to make a stop at Chijust to restock. It'll add about a day to our trip."

The freighter lifted off from the desolate planet and streamed its way out of Anoat's atmosphere. As the stars elongated and shifted into the blue field of hyperspace, Kyle could have sworn that he had refilled the water tanks before their last mission.


	3. X-Wing: The Three That Lived

Three Who Lived

Luke Skywalker was done with handshakes and pats on the back. In the past day he had more of them than he could have ever accumulated in three lives on Tatooine. Only days ago he was living on the insignificant desert planet with his aunt and uncle and wishing for adventure to take him off that rock. Now he was the Hero of the Rebellion with the medal to prove it, along with everyone's new best friend.

The young man walked through the large room in the ochre-colored Rebel base, avoiding the dwindling revelers as best he could. The large golden medallion that had been presented to him by the princess bounced against the yellow jacket and black shirt that the Alliance had given him , an honor and an annoyance.

Han had initially refused the honor, along with Chewbacca, citing with an unusual amount of vehemence that the people who really should have gotten the award were the ones that didn't make it back. Luke couldn't disagree with the smuggler. Out of the thirty ships that had launched from the jungle base, only three had made it back. Twenty-seven pilots had paid the final price for their cause and Luke Skywalker could barely name more than three of them.

Of those three it was Biggs Darklighter that he had truly known.

"Hey, Sky... Luke!" The voice with a tight Corellian accent floated over the diminishing crowd. "Over here!" The voice belonged to a pilot only a few years older than Luke but already a seasoned veteran. Wedge Antilles was sitting at a plasteel table, mulling over a bottle of some sort of liquor with the other surviving pilot and a blond woman seated next to the latter man. Both of the pilots were still in the flight suits that they had worn during the battle and during the large medal ceremony just hours before.

Luke pulled the wooden seat away from the table and sat down next to Wedge. "Wedge, Keyan. How have you two been?" Luke hadn't seen the other two pilots since their own medal ceremony the night before.

"I've been better," Keyan said. His voice was thick with a rural Agamarian accent and he scratched at his light brown hair. "But I've been worse."

"Alive," Wedge chimed in as he rose his glass and took a sip.

"Alive," Keyan agreed and took a drink of his own glass, followed by his companion.

Luke felt his stomach sink deeper down his body. He was alive when so many were dead, not just Biggs. His uncle and aunt and been the first, their bodies charred and indistinguishable from each other as they lay where the stormtroopers had shot them. Obi-Wan was next, his mentor of only a day had filled his mind with lessons of the Force before being cut down by the same vile man that had murdered his father and shot down Biggs. He took the offered glass from Wedge and took a drink of the watered down liquor. "Alive."

"You look like you're sick of all the attention you're getting," Keyan's companion, who had introduced herself as Lynia, one of Mon Mothma's aides, said.

Luke gave a half laugh. "You can say that again." He shook his head and a strand of his dark blonde hair fell into his eyes. "Everyone's calling me a hero just because I was the one who made the shot. It could have been Gold Leader, or Commander Dreis."

"Don't be so hard on yourself," Wedge said. "You did _your_ job."

"Who were they? The ones that I didn't get to know?"

"Good beings," Wedge said. "Some of the best that the Alliance had to offer."

"That's for sure," Keyan added.

"Jek Porkins, the burly one," Wedge began. He took a quick drink from his glass and refilled it. "One of the best dogfighters in the Rebellion. A good man, too, you just wouldn't want to be across the table from him in a Sabacc game." Wedge laughed at some distant memory.

"I barely even got to say 'hello' to him," Luke said.

"That's war, Luke," the Agamarian pilot said. He looked down at his own glass with a somewhat far away stare. "You don't get know people half as well as you'd want to and when you do, they can still die."

"To Porkins." Wedge raised his glass and toasted to the memory of his friend.

Luke took a sip of his drink before clearing his throat. "Biggs Darklighter was my one of my best friends growing up. He was always better at the rest of us when we were flying our speeders back home, and he let you know it, too. He wasn't bragging, though, not really. I always thought it was just his way of trying to get you to improve."

Wedge and Keyan both gave a slight laugh at that and nodded their heads. Biggs had always been one to make an impression on people quickly and his recent comrades were no exception.

"To Biggs," Luke toasted.

"I've lost more friends than I'd ever thought I had, but yesterday two of them died. Puck Naeco and Hamo Blastwell." Keyan reached up and massaged his forehead as Lynia gently placed an arm around him. "No one even saw what happened to Hamo, so I guess I'll drink to him."

The third pilot took a second to compose his thoughts. "Hamo wasn't just an instructor, he was a friend to everyone who knew him. You could go to him with your problems and he'd be there if he thought you had a problem." Keyan raised his glass slightly. "To Hamo," he toasted.

Luke took another drink to another man that he didn't know. Lynia had wrapped an arm around Keyan's shoulder to comfort him as he mourned the loss of a close friend. A strange sight caught his eyes for a fraction of a second as she toasted: the briefest hint of hesitation at the gesture before going through with the salute.

"I guess I'm the only one who hasn't said anything yet," Lynia said. "There was only one pilot up there that I really know, and he made it back." She took a drink from her nearly empty glass to steady her nerves. "My brother was a fighter pilot for the rebels before any of you joined up. Before there was even an Alliance, just the various cells across the galaxy. Mon Mothma had a small fleet that she kept hidden while she was still in the Senate. They were attacking an Imperial supply convoy when my brother got a TIE on his tail. He didn't make it back."

She wiped tears from her eyes and raised her glass as high as she could manage. "To Jabez." Luke could only stare as she quickly finished the rest of her drink before quickly heading away from the table.

"Um, I'd better go and make sure that she's okay," Keyan said. He looked back towards the direction that she had fled with a look of concern on his long face. "She really doesn't like talking about her brother. That's the first time I've heard all of it..."

Keyan walked quickly away from the table and towards where his companion had disappeared to, leaving Luke and Wedge alone at the table. "If you live for more than this battle, and from what I've seen you're a real Likely to Survive if I've ever seen one, remember that." Wedge pointed in the general direction of the two that had just left. "Years pass and it never gets easy."

Luke looked at the older pilot with a sober look on his face. "I will."

"At the same time, there'll be some that won't take kindly to you: a newcomer destroying that thing and living while so many people that they knew for years didn't make it back. It's just something that happens to new pilots, and I was no exception. Don't let it bother you, they'll come around."

When Luke left the table a few minutes later, he rolled the information and advice that Wedge had given him in his mind. The lift towards the top of the ancient temple moved slowly as his mind raced.

The lift exited to the open air of Yavin 4, the burst of humidity of the jungle world hitting Luke in the face as he stepped out. The large gas giant that gave the moon its name loomed large in the night sky, casting a deep red-orange hue along the surface of the satellite while several of the planet's other moons showed as smaller dots in the sky. Tatooine's binary suns had been a common sight to him, having spend all of his life under the heat and brightness of those two stars, but the sight of Yavin and so many of its moons in space nearly took his breath away.

The burning piece of Death Star wreckage as it streaked through the moon's atmosphere caught his eye and he watched the impromptu meteorite before the friction dissolved it completely. They had struck a huge blow against the Empire yesterday, but they would be back. Maybe not soon, but the Rebel's hidden base had been discovered. For now, though, they were heroes, every one of them, even the dead. Biggs, Jek, Hamo, Jabez and the others killed yesterday joined with Uncle Owen, Aunt Beru and Obi-Wan in his mind as the true heroes, the ones that had died to get them where they were today. He stared out into space, towards the faint white cluster of stars that was the Galactic Core and knew that the war had just truly begun.


	4. Memories and Thoughts of the Future ANH

The main ring of the _Millennium Falcon_ was quiet as Obi-Wan Kenobi stepped out of the crew quarters that he, Luke and the Wookiee shared. The dark durasteel grey deck of the freighter was cast in deep shadows as the night cycle entered its second half, small lights running along the curvature of the ship providing the only illumination.

The aged Jedi Master pulled his robe close to him and suppressed a slight shiver. The cool recycled air in the craft was a far cry to the scorching desert heat of Tatooine that was barely mitigated by the frequently breaking down cooling system that he had in his hut. His booted feet sounded loud against the deck as he walked towards the main hold and its adjacent common area.

The familiar golden droid sat in the semi-circular couch with his head hunched downwards, photoreceptors dead. A telltale power cord emerged from his back and snaked around the seat until it plugged into a power conduit next to the Dejarik board. Obi-Wan smiled slightly at the sight. Everyone on the ship except for him was asleep, even the droids.

Obi-Wan had taken the droid for merely just another Cybot Galactica protocol droid when he had first seen him at Luke's side and it had taken hearing his full designation to realize that the droid was far more than standard. He was originally Anakin's droid, rebuilt from a thousand spare parts and a busted up frame that he had taken out of a junk heap. The realization had brought with it a twinge of fear, for the droid had always had a nasty habit of not knowing when to keep his vocabulator switched off. Yet the droid made no mention of remembering the name of "Kenobi" or even "Skywalker."

Kenobi continued his walk through the ship, stepping through doors and passing through empty cargo holds before finding the perfect place. The life support systems hummed its song as it took the air from inside of the ship, filtered it and added a cooling element before sending it back out through the ducts. A few medium-sized cargo crates that had no doubt at one time carried any number of elicit cargoes stood stacked in the corner.

The Jedi Master sat down on the grated floor and crossed his legs. He took a deep breath in and opened his mind to the Force. The upcoming days would bring events that he sorely needed to meditate upon. The smuggler had announced quite boldly that the journey to Alderaan would only take a little over a day and a half after they had escaped the Imperial Star Destroyer and made it into hyperspace. It had left little time to think.

The door hissed open and Obi-Wan opened his blue-gray eyes as a series of tweets and whistles invaded the silence. Standing in front of the door was the shining white half-cylinder astromech droid. "Hello again," Obi-Wan said.

The droid responded to his greeting in a series of whistles and beeps before ending with an inquisitive warble.

"Of course I recognized you," Obi-Wan said. "It's hard not to remember you, Artoo."

R2-D2 chirped happily, lights along his semi-spherical domed head blinking along.

"I was wondering if you remembered me. Threepio didn't say anything and..."

Artoo emitted a series of chirps that resembled laughter.

"Bail had his memory wiped?" Obi-Wan ran his palm across his white beard to suppress a smile. "Considering how talkative he is, I can't say that I blame Bail. Who knows what he might have said and to who."

The droid beeped along quickly.

"You know that you can't tell him," Obi-Wan said. His mind flashed to a slight lie that he had practiced throughout the years. It had been a lie of necessity, the Jedi Master thought, for neither the boy or perhaps even Leia were ready for the whole truth. He'd have to keep his own counsel on when that day would be. He had just told Luke that his father was a Jedi Knight and a hero in the Clone Wars; a far cry from the undignified fate of a spice smuggler that his aunt and uncle had told him. Telling the boy that the man that his father had become had murdered his own compatriots, sparing no one, not even the younglings in his slaughter, would have done nothing but scare the boy straight into the wastes.

Artoo rolled closer to Obi-Wan and let loose a mournful tone.

"They've known one truth their whole lives and they must be eased into it. They can't know that Anakin and Vader are the same, not yet."

The droid hesitated for a moment before warbling in understanding before rocking forward on his two legs and emitting a series of questioning chirps.

"I know that Leia's been captured by the Empire," Obi-Wan said. He closed his eyes once again and peered into the Force, images of Luke racing along dark corridors with the princess in tow flashing in his mind. "There'll be a rescue and the boy will be there. As soon as we get to Alderaan and get that information that you're carrying to Bail, it'll be done." Obi-Wan knew that Bail would ask him to lead the battle when they arrived and he could not refuse the offer. His reflexes had slowed slightly with age, but the Force could compensate for that. What couldn't be made up for would be the years without any meaningful practice save for the occasional tussle with Tusken Raiders, even if one had been led by an old friend.

He stood up from his meditation, muscles and bones giving an unpleasant sounding creak. Obi-Wan frowned at the thought but consoled himself that at least he still had his mind that had led to numerous victories during the Clone Wars. Leia's words from the message that Artoo had played for him ran through that mind: "information vital to the survival of the Rebellion," she had hurriedly stated.

"What did the princess upload to your memory banks?"

Artoo thought for brief seconds, shaking his domed head before chirping out a negative.

The Jedi Master allowed himself a smile at the astromech's response. Only Alliance personnel with a specific security clearance would be able to view the files on his memory banks, the droid had said.

Obi-Wan walked away from the droid and patted it on the top of his head. "I suppose I'll see it soon enough." He turned towards the door and walked back into the main cargo hold. They would reach Alderaan in a day, he thought. Enough time to give Luke a crash course in the Force for the battles to come, though there would be a lot more time for more in-depth training later. The door closed behind him, leaving Artoo alone in the hold.


End file.
